Sanity and the things between
by Ninlx
Summary: When I was a child I witnessed something. Something terrible. Now sixteen years later it returned. And I'm locked up in a mental hospital. Great. PTSD my ass. But I'll get out of this place and then it's time for revenge. Nothing will change that. Not even this innocent looking boy across the hall. Why is he in here anyway? Not that I care. Law/Luffy AU
1. Prolog

Hey everyone,

so this is my first try at writing something in the one piece fandom.

This just sort of happened. I always wanted to write about a slightly crazy Law, so here it is.

Hope you enjoy it :)

Needless to say I do not own One Piece and sadly enough none of the characters.

Prolog:

_Posttraumatic stress disorder may develop after a person is exposed to one or more traumatic events, such as sexual assault, warfare, serious injury, or threats of imminent death._¹

Well, at least that's what Wikipedia is saying. Or my psychiatrist. Dr. Monet. Crazy old bitch if you're asking me. Apparently no one does lately. I haven't been here for a long time yet. Can't really say anything about this '_institution'. _They call it a 'mental hospital'. Only concerned about the welfare of their patients. Yeah, welfare my ass. Something is definitely odd about this place... Okay could be because of the hundreds of insane people who are _living_ here together. That's if by _living_ you mean being locked up in a goddamn plain room for your own and others 'safety'.

As if I would go around and finish everyone off who's in my way. Last time I checked I' ve been classified as the victim in this whole scenario. And if I'm going to seek revenge upon someone it won't be one of the batshit fuckers who are rotting here.

No, I know damn well whose blood I want on my hands. I can almost feel it running through my fingers already. Warm and sticky. That day will be the day when everything' s right again. How it was all supposed to be.

Just so you know, I ain't crazy or something. Even though that's probably what every crazy person in this world is saying. Ah fuck it, I don't even care if you think I'm crazy or not. I know I'm not and that's everything that matters.

But if you believe I'm as fucked up as everyone else in here you're in quite good company. Apparently all my 'friends' think I am. They are one of the reasons I'm in here anyway.

And for the record: I _didn't _try to kill myself with the pills. I was trying to get some fucking sleep. Even if no one is buying that, it's the truth. But people don't like to hear the truth much, do they? They could have trusted me. I _am _a goddamn doctor after all.

Okay, so the dose may have been a bit high but I could have handled it. I had worse in my life. But thanks to them I now have officially a suicidal tendency and am suffering from a posttraumatic stress disorder.

Which is why I am sitting here in this room that only contains a bed, a toilet and a sink. Luxury as far as the eye can reach.

You want to know how people get insane? Sitting in such a room day after day is pretty much doing it for you.

Maybe I should have told them about my past. But it's better that way. Hell, for them it would be the best if they forgot my name as fast as possible. At least I've made myself pretty clear that I don't want them near me anymore.

Okay there may be more reasons why I ended up imprisoned in this mental hospital, but I'm definitely not in the mood for _that_ story.

I've been here for about a week now. Ironically, they are giving me pills everyday. Not that I actually swallow them. It's still funny though. I bet you would find it hilarious as well if you were in here with me.

But you see, keeping your sanity in an institution like that isn't easy. Especially when all what the doctors and nurses seem to do, is trying to shut you down with their drugs. Oh sorry, medicine.

Another funny fact: The only thing keeping me sane, is the one thing I am here for.

The reason responsible for my insomnia and the PTSD. Before you start guessing what's the cause oft that, I'll tell you this: I wasn't sexually assaulted. I wasn't badly injured or in a situation where my life was in danger, at least not in that moment.

But I witnessed something. Something terrible. Not recently. It happened when I was a child. Almost sixteen years ago.

You may be wondering why I would be in here now when it had happened sixteen years ago.

Well, I am not here because of that, but then again it is all connected to each other. Think of it as a puzzle you started years ago but lost a few parts to finish it and then you find the missing pieces again after you thought they had been erased forever. That comparison sucks? Likely. At least I tried.

You know it returned. _He _returned. And everything that had to do with him. If he could see me now locked up in this room without a chance to get out, he would be laughing so hard, he might die from it. Not that I'd care. He just deserves something much more _painful_.

He's the reason I can't sleep. Because when I close my eyes, I see his face. I hear him laughing. At me. At everyone I love. Loved. There isn't anyone left in my life to love. He made sure of it.

How these thoughts can keep me sane?

Well, I am good as long as I know who I am. I'm Trafalgar Law. Can't forget that.

And I will not stop or be stopped before I get my revenge on him: Donquixote Doflamingo.

I will get out of this place. And then I'm coming for you.

You'd better be prepared.

Thank you for reading :)

1) source: wiki/Posttraumatic_stress_disorder

It's quite an interesting article if you want to check it out.


	2. Chapter 1

Hi there again,

first of all a big thanks to everyone who has read the Prolog of 'Sanity and the things between'.

Thanks to 12 followers and 8 favorites! You guys are amazing and I appreciate every single one of you! :)

A special thanks to the reviewer, you really made my day and kept me motivated! :)

I hope you're liking the first chapter of the story as well.

I really try to let them stay in character, though I probably have to bend a few things a bit at some point.

I also decided to publish a new chapter every Tuesday. I hope this way I'll be able to publish regularly.

So that's it from me! Have fun & stay safe :)

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1:<span>

You know what I've noticed since last time? That announcing a revenge plan sounds much more threatening when you are not locked up and wearing a white jumpsuit. I mean seriously? A jumpsuit? Who's in charge of deciding such things? It's like they want patients to look like something you've ripped out of a freaking horror movie.

Gotta admit though: After a total of five hours sleep in the last week, I'm pretty sure I _am_ looking like a psychopath who came straight out of some cheap Hollywood movie.

But this ain't the problem here. Honestly? I couldn't care less about what I'm wearing or how I am looking at the moment. The whole situation is kind of exhausting. That's all. You've got to find something to keep yourself occupied with. A focus. Otherwise you're really going to lose your mind. Only a few people can stand to be alone with themselves. It awakens memories you rather not think about. It's actually funny how your own brain can drive you mad. And interesting at the same time if you think about it.

You get the idea, don't you? There's not much you can do in here. They leave you alone with yourself and your thoughts. Which isn't really that bad for me. I've never been much of a talker anyway. Why? Well, I simply think that you don't have to shout every thought of yours out into the world. People seem to be so busy with talking these days, they forget what silence even feels like. Most of them are uncomfortable when it's silent. It makes them nervous to a point they're feeling awkward. So they start talking again.

I've never understood it. Silence is much more true than anything they have to say. At least that's what my observations have shown. Maybe you're feeling different about it.

But even if you are comfortable with silence and enjoy having time to think, a week without a proper conversation is long. I'm not counting the 'conversations' with my psychiatrist here. These sure as hell aren't normal chats. Something about her is giving me the creeps.

She's insane. Like _really_ insane. In the first meeting we had, she just stared at me. A whole hour. She didn't even try to ask anything. Then, before she left, she stopped at the door and just giggled. It had been a rather annoying high-pitched sound which made me kind of thank her for not talking. But she has a presence around her which seems so cold. Almost cruel. I don't think she pictures patients as persons. More like test subjects. We are simply something to study for her. Guess it takes crazy to know crazy.

I've been told that I am in a 'probation period'. That's why I'm locked up in the first place. It's a routine. They want to have time to observe me. Analyze me. They want to see what I do when I'm imprisoned and alone. Do I get angry? Violent? Scared? Or even desperate? Didn't know such methods were still legal. I bet they really aren't. Therefore I feel a great satisfaction, knowing that I didn't give them what they wanted. Or should I say expected? Hoped for? Sorry, but I don't trust anyone in this 'hospital' at all.

I bet it must have been boring to watch me. All I've done was lying or sitting on the bed staring straight to the little spot above the door, where they hid the camera. It's in the air shaft and fucking obvious if you're not completely retarded. Again who is planning these things? And what are they thinking? 'Come on, let's put the security camera right above the door in the air shaft. The only eye-catching thing in this damn plain white room. No one is going to suspect something in there.' Genius.

Oh well, it's not my problem, is it? Okay, maybe it is.

Anyway this 'probation period' is supposed to last exactly one week. After that you get to join the group therapies beside the private ones and are allowed to eat in the cafeteria with all the lovely nut jobs. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but then again anything is better than spending the whole week locked up in a small room. Seriously, this isn't constructed for people with claustrophobia.

But I'm getting carried away again. Kind of happens a lot lately. What I wanted to say in the first place was that this 'probation time' ends today. At least if didn't lose my track of time. I'm sure I didn't.

Guess they want to keep me in suspense a bit longer. If that's what they want, be my guest.

You would think they'd get tired of watching me. Obviously not.

If I could still sleep, I'd probably be doing that right now. But I can't. And I have no interest in seeing his disgusting face today. I'm planning on eating later, so no thanks.

It is hard though, to keep your cool, when you're body is longing for sleep and your mind is racing.

I'm a very controlled person, but there is only so much you can completely control in your life. The needs of your body ain't part of it. In the end we are nothing more than a slave to our own bodies.

Of course I know I'm not doing myself a favor with staying awake as long as possible, but it can't be helped. If I allow myself to sleep, to _dream_, right now while being under surveillance, they'll never let me out again. You'll see, I talk while sleeping. Wouldn't be a wise thing to do in here.

I have to stay focused all the time in order not to shake. It feels as if I'm getting detoxed. Not that I really know what that's like. I don't do drugs. At least not anymore. I'd just tried them a few times as a teenager but drugs could have never been my solution.

What should I say? I've tried and forgot about them. Fast. It had been a very tempting idea to get rid of everything. Maybe a bit too tempting for me. I would have disappeared in this world full of indifference. And he didn't save my life so I could go around and forget who I am. I owe him more than that.

I'll tell you a secret if you haven't figured it out by yourself yet: I'm not mad, but pretty fucked up.

I could definitely need a shower. A cold one. It always calms me in a way nothing else does. Last time they let me shower was three days ago. For a hospital they are not very hygienic. I mean, come on, what kind of bullshit is this? The only purpose to prohibit someone something as important as a daily hygienic ritual, is to make people uncomfortable in their own skin. See why I already can't stand them? There is probably some messed up explanation for it, but they are not going to tell me anyway. They do not tell you shit here.

'We know what we are doing Mr. Trafalgar. Don't worry. Everything is under control.'

_Control_. Such a nice word to use if asked by a patient what the hell is going on. Makes you feel all warm and secure, doesn't it? Yeah, it doesn't.

You might think I'm being paranoid, and maybe you're right, but I'm just getting all these bad vibes ever since I came to this place. It's merely a feeling. You simply trust this kind of feelings when you you've been through what I've been.

In life or death situations, it's always about whether you have the right intuition or not.

I straightened up from my lying position.

Lying around all day long really isn't doing anything for you. At least not for your bones and muscles. Just giving you osteoarthritis in the long run. You don't want that.

As I was about to take a 'walk' around the room to stretch my legs a bit, the door opened and my psychiatrist along with a rather disturbing doctor entered my humble home.

By the way I really hope this creep isn't anything near a medic. Although his lab coat says otherwise. He had blue hair, and as if this wasn't already enough, he had one of the creepiest eyes I've ever seen. They practically screamed insane. No kidding. And what the fuck is wrong with that disturbing grin? Is _he _on drugs? One thing for sure: I've never, in my entire life, seen a doctor like this.

Looking for a psychopath? Right here.

I didn't let any of my thoughts show on my face though. I simply stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

"_Shurororo, _Law how are you feeling today? Does the medicine help you sleep?" he asks without any sign of caring.

So not answering that.

His grin just grew wider.

"Ah not in the mood for a little chat, are we? Shurororo. Very well. I came to inform you that your probation time ended today. We are certain that your are steady enough to be positioned in an other location. Monet is going to show you the way. We will see each other later for an … examination. Shurororo."

I absolutely don't like the way he says 'examination'. There's something terribly wrong with that.

He was about to leave when I finally decided to ask him one thing.

"When do I get discharged?"

He didn't turn around, but stopped. It took some time before he answered at last.

"Discharged? Shurororo. I'm sorry, but getting discharged is not in sight at the moment."

He didn't sound sorry at all.

* * *

><p>At least the new room looked more like a dorm room than a prison cell. There was a bed beneath a large window, which you could not open, I tried, a dresser, a closet with more jumpsuits in it, oh joy, and finally a bathroom all to myself. When it came to the furniture I couldn't complain, it was more than I'd expected.<p>

Not that I had been expecting anything in the first place.

The room is nice and I give them that, but it's an illusion. An illusion of freedom. They may have arranged it like this to give you a feeling of being at home, but this isn't home. No matter how nice a room looks, if you can't get out when you want, it's a prison and nothing else.

It's not like I'm not seeing why they are doing this. Of course, if there are people who are a danger for others or themselves due to their mental condition it is important to have them locked up.

But I am not a danger for anyone. Okay, scratch that. I'm not a danger for innocent people would be a more accurate statement. The ones I'm after are many things, innocent ain't one them.

So why on earth would they keep me here for a long time where a 'discharge is not in sight'? Thinking about the creep, he didn't even tell me his name. Professionalism just reached a new high.

Not that I want to get to know him any better. The encounter before was already close enough for my taste. By the way I'm convinced that all authorities in here look like freaking maniacs. Haven't seen anyone normal so far. Maybe it's in the job description.

'Only hired when mad'. Funny, I know.

Anyway if this is how things are going to be, I need a plan. I can't stay here for long. I simply can't.

There's gonna be a way out.

I have thought about it while showering earlier. And I made a decision: If they are not letting me out any time soon, I'll find my own way to get out. I have done riskier things in my life than breaking out from a mental hospital. Staying is not an option.

So all there is left for me to do now, is hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.

That's where I'm now.

Sitting on my new bed and staring at the red light above the door. It states that the room is locked. If it turns green, I'm free to leave. Not on my own of course. I'm being 'escorted' to wherever they want me to be. It should turn green any minute now, telling me it's time to go to the cafeteria. At this point I'm actually looking forward to it.

I'm hungry and a full stomach is a much better foundation for thinking. I'm also a bit curious what's awaiting me there.

I'm not quite sure on which ward I am. Guess it's where they keep the patients with an anxiety disorder. PTSD should fall into that category. If I remember correctly. After all I'm a surgeon, not a psychiatrist.

I was thinking about my time as a medicine student, when the light turned green. Alright, time to see my lovely comrades.

The cafeteria was rather small and therefore noisy as fuck. This district looked as sterile as the rest of the complex. There were small tables placed neatly in the hall, all with the same space between them. The tables left room for four persons each. Most of them were already occupied when I entered. I tried to imprint everything: The space between the tables, the number of occupants, the material used for the furniture, the place and size of the servery.

You never know when it comes in handy. Paying close attention to your surrounding can save your life.

After that I queued up for the food. Right now I'm standing between a husky, short man and an attractive woman with long black hair. Most of them seem to be surprisingly normal. Okay, a few are excitedly whispering to themselves or looking around every few seconds with a haunted expression on their faces, but most of them are just standing in the queue waiting for their food.

Which took a long time. The reason for that was a rather young-looking boy with black hair and a scar beneath his left eye. He sure wasn't the quiet type as the whole cafeteria could hear his conversation with the cook.

"Oi, Sanji come on, I want more! You can't be serious. This serving is a joke. How should I get mentally better, if you deny me my food?" he's whining loudly and tries to steal some of the meat,

but doesn't succeed as his hand is slapped away and an unpleasant looking blond-haired man is shouting back at him.

"Luffy for the last time: Everyone gets the same serving. No exception! You don't have a mental problem, you have a problem with your ears! Now move it before I lose my manners!"

This Luffy boy just pouts, not caring in the slightest about the cooks rage and obviously still expecting to get more food. Looking around I notice that no one is paying attention to this scene. Probably hasn't been the first time they've seen it.

In the mean time the guys behind him had gotten more and more pissed off as they've started to crack their knuckles. Not that the boy cared.

He's still eying the cook, begging for more food with his eyes.

"Luffy, if you are not leaving right now, you are not getting any food at all tomorrow." the cook finally says, staring the black-haired teenager down.

But it had the desired effect: Faster than one could blink the boy grabbed his tray and was backing off, obviously afraid that the cook would even take away the food he already got on his plastic plate.

With a shocked expression on his face he left, causing the blond cook to sigh in relief.

Soo is this kid crazy or just really strange? I'm not sure yet. Maybe both.

After the incident at the servery I managed to find an empty table. I prefer eating without being disturbed. And I gotta admit, this food is really tasty. This cook knows what he's doing.

By the way we're eating with plastic cutlery. Not good for the environment, but they can be sure no one is going to murder himself or anyone else while having Bouillabaisse. Just kidding, we are not having Bouillabaisse in this place.

It happened when I was about to leave the cafeteria that a tall, muscular man with red hair crashed into me. As he's turning around, you could already see that he wasn't one to keep his temper.

I just stare at his murderous shining eyes as he grabs the collar of my jumpsuit.

"Got a problem, you fucking bastard? Watch where you're going! I'd better be hearing an apology now or else.." he threatens loudly, leaving the sentence unfinished.

He's got the attention of the whole hall by now. Very impressive. It was simply not his lucky day.

You know, it would have worked. With anyone else it probably would have worked. I mean, he _is_ tall and has a threatening presence and all. Guess one could call it bad luck.

He made me smirk though. Honestly, I was dying to let off some steam anyway. And the best part is, you can't even blame me. He asked for it. Totally not my fault.

"What are you smirking at, you little scum? You think this is funny? Just wait, it's about to get even funnier now." he's shouting, pissed because of my smirk.

He doesn't get the chance to prove his words, as my right hand shoots up grabbing the wrist at my collar. I search for the right spot and press. For a second he's blinking confused. Then he let go off my collar, holding his wrist in pain.

Yeah, being a doctor got its advantages. Knowledge of the human anatomy for example.

"You know, it's not nice, accusing someone of his own mistakes. You should use all that energy of yours to learn how to control your temper, don't you think?" I tell him, getting a dirty look in return.

From the corner of my eye I could see the security hurrying over to us.

Aren't they just always there when someone is in need? I don't need to answer that, do I?

"You're paying for this, you little fucker." the redhead says more quietly now after he had noticed the security approaching as well.

"You're sure you can take the response? You don't know what I'm capable of." I question him, looking directly into his eyes. He holds my gaze, not even blinking.

We're smirking simultaneously. This is going to be a nice pastime.

"Trafalgar! Eustass! What's going on here?" the guard demands to know.

I shoot him one last glance, before I start to walk off.

"Nothing." I say calmly. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

><p>"But it's really boring in there! I don't have anything to do. Can't you play something with me? Please!" I hear the same boy pleading who had demanded more food in the cafeteria earlier as I was walking back to my room.<p>

I don't know what it is, but something about this boy really fascinates me. His innocent appearance, his careless behavior just makes me wonder, why someone like him is in a place like this? He doesn't belong.

I didn't even notice I was staring at him, until he stops talking and stares right back at me.

It's been the most serious look I've seen on his face so far. He is studying me.

Then, suddenly, his eyes are beaming and he is waving at me, a big grin spread on his face.

Really, what's wrong with that kid?

But he sure as hell is interesting.

With that, I close the door behind me, wondering what else this place is going to have in store for me.

* * *

><p>Hope you all have a good day! :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

Hi there,

one week really goes by fast. I'm gonna make it quick this time.

The chapter is slightly different this time, but see for yourself.

Big thanks to ALittleCurious, I'm really glad you liked the way I introduced the characters. I hope you'll like this chapter as well. :)

Here you go.

* * *

><p>Chapter 2:<p>

_I've been running for hours now. But everything looks the same. Every fucking corridor looks exactly like the one before. All of it is a big black mass and I just can't find a way out. It messes with my brain. Drives me crazy. _

_It's like I'm running in circles. I don't know how I got here. I don't know where I am. All I know is: I have to get out. They' re after me. It's life or death now. And tell you what, I prefer life. _

_But I'm exhausted. My legs feel like they've been replaced with concrete blocks. Either that or the floor has turned itself into quicksand. I'm walking, I know I am, but I'm not getting anywhere. Everything around me is jet black. The only thing flickering in the dark are red sparks._

_Sometimes far away, and then directly beside me. It makes me shiver. Almost painfully. _

"_Running again, Law?", somebody's laugh is echoing through the hall. _

_My blood turns into ice. I'm spinning around. Breathless. But there's no one. Where does the voice come from? Are they already that close? _

_Further. I've got to get going. I can't stay here. I'm forcing my legs to move. It's painful. But I would also cut them of if it meant getting away from here. _

"_Afraid to face me? Look, what you've become. A coward, hiding in the dark. But you can't hide forever, Law. Someone may find you. Maybe someone already has."_

_Damn it! This voice. Where is it? I can't stand it. I never could. It makes me sick to my bones._

_Finally my legs give in. A useless bundle of meat lying behind me. One more thing I have to carry._

_I'm crawling now. My knees and hands begin to bleed. I don't even know why. The blood's sticky and warm as it runs out of my body and leaves marks on the dark ground. All I can think of is: What if they see the bloodstains? It doesn't stop me for long though. I'm dragging myself further. Away from them. Away from his voice. _

"_What a shame. You know you had potential. You had all the right requirements. You were just like me. So very promising. But you wasted it."_

_A maniac talking. Laughing, shrieking, hissing and shouting all at once. And he seems to be everywhere. _

"_No, no.." I'm muttering over and over. Trying to chase the words away. I was never like him. Not even in my darkest hour. _

_A fork. I hesitate, then I turn to the right. I don't have much time left. My arms are shaking from the weight of my body. Not long and they'll refuse to carry me any further._

_The black is fading and makes room for a dark purple. It hurts my eyes. I want to close them, but I can't. They won't obey me anymore. My cheeks are getting more and more wet. Am I crying?_

_I'm crawling faster now. Use my last strength to make it out alive. Just a little bit..._

_Dead end. I've reached a dead end. There is hysterical laughter in the hall. It takes me a moment to realize: It's my own. _

_I let my back rest against cold stone. I want to face what's coming. I'm wiping away my tears. They're red. I laugh harder. _

"_I want to forgive you. I really want to, Law. But you disappointed me. Just like my father did before. Just like my brother did after him. But I've forgiven them. And now, I'll forgive you."_

_Suddenly there is the sound of footsteps coming closer. Slowly. These are the movements of someone who already knows he had won. There is no need to hurry. The victim won't run away. _

_It's game over._

_Truth is: I've never had a chance. In this scenario he always wins. The only thing that changes is how._

_He is there. Dressed in pink as always. The color is mocking me. The end of the gun is pointing directly at my head. Safety of. He's ready. I am as well. _

"_After all, it came to this. I hope you remember my lesson, Law: Weaklings can't pick their way of death."_

_Then he shoots. Laughing. I feel the pain. I see the blood. I'm dying. Again. _

* * *

><p>Soaked in cold sweat I awaken. It doesn't even take a second and I'm on my feet. I can't stop myself from shaking. My mind is spinning. My blood's rushing through my veins. I have to gain control of my body again. I force myself to inhale and exhale deeply. Trying to get my pulse down.<p>

It's always like this. Sometimes it's even worse. The dreams are even worse. The ones where only I get hurt are the jackpot. I'm not going to analyze my dream. I ain't a dream reader. And you probably don't have to be one to get the meaning of my dreams. It's a clear message after all. At the end of the road there is only one thing awaiting me. I just hope I get my chance to strike first. After that I don't care what happens next.

My breath is steady again. But my body is still tense. It's funny how intense some dreams are. How nightmares can affect you.

Massaging my neck I look around. The moon is shining through the window. Dipping the room in a soft yellow shine. Everything is silent. Peaceful. Too peaceful for a mental hospital. To be honest, I'd expected more screaming. It's strange how you can find a peaceful atmosphere in a place like this. My muscles start to relax. But it's not enough to be comfortable yet. Sighing I make my way over to the bathroom. A quick look in the small mirror shows me the effect these dreams have. Bloodshot eyes are staring back at me, the dark circles around my eyes are darker than ever, making quite the contrast to my pale white skin. I bet I could make little children run away to their parents like this. Maybe not only children. I drag myself away from my reflection.

Stripping this goddamn jumpsuit of, I step beneath the shower. The water is hot. Almost burns my skin. But that's exactly like I need it right now. The pain I feel chases the memories away. Only for a few seconds though. Temperature control. They make sure no one's hurting himself.

Hands leaning on the shower wall, I let the water pour down on my face. Trying to think about nothing. Did you know that it's impossible to think about nothing? The human brain just doesn't work like this. Even when you're thinking to not think about anything, you're still thinking. Tricky, isn't it? Our minds just won't shut the fuck up.

I'm turning the water off. Taking a white towel, I return to my room not bothering that I'm still dripping wet. I make my way over to the window. This time I'm looking outside. The heavy gates are sparkling in the night. It reminds me where I am.

My thoughts are wandering back to my dream. What I said earlier is true: Dreams like that are the jackpot. They're almost harmless compared to others I have. But they kinda scare me. And I am not one to be easily scared. It's not the fact that I'm dying or that he's chasing me. It's myself who scares me. The person I become in this dreams. At some point, I always lose it in there. I'm a completely different person. And I can't stop it. I'm a helpless piece of shit, just like I had been all these years ago. The thought that this person I dream to be is actually a part of me freaks me out. Imagining, that somewhere inside me there is a maniac who is not so different from him, is killing me. I don't sleep, because I don't want to see his face. But I also don't want to see myself.

Do you understand now why I don't want to close my eyes?

* * *

><p>Sitting I in the Mensa I wonder about one thing: How the hell did I end up at the same table as the redhead psychopath from yesterday and this Luffy guy? Is there a sign on my head which reads: 'In urgent need of being in company of the craziest motherfuckers in this whole building'?<p>

Because after half an hour sitting at the same table as them, I'm sure they are.

It started really simple. I came here, picked a seat, began to eat and suddenly the peace is gone and a very noisy boy is taking the seat opposite to me.

"Hi, I'm Luffy. I saw you the other day, you know from across the hall. First time I saw you here at all. Anyway I think we should be friends. Most people in here are really boring. But you are not, right? So now that we're going to become friends you have to tell me more about you! Oh and what's your name? I'm not sure. The guard called you Trafgar or something. But that's not your first name, is it? I have to know your name so we can be friends. It's going to be so much fun." he laughs happily.

He is smiling widely again, expecting me to say something in return. I'm blinking in confusion. Who on earth is introducing himself like that? I have never met someone like him before.

"Hello? Are you still there? Do you always stare at other people with your mouth open? You're a funny guy." he snickers.

Obviously my facial expression is not the smartest. Glad to be the center of amusement.

I study him closely. He's cute. Black scrubby hair, big eyes and a nice body. What more do you want? He looks kinda young though. Sixteen, maybe seventeen? Definitely too young to be here. And too innocent as well.

"...aaaand he's really nice. You should meet him." he's still talking, but I don't know about what.

Time to interrupt him.

"Law. My name is Law." I say quietly, but he heard me.

If possible, he's even grinning wider now.

"Oh that's good. Law is great. It's simple. I hate complicated names. I always have problems remembering them. You should keep it simple right?"

Unbelievable.

"Right. So Luffy, aren't you a bit young to be in here?" I ask, because I just have to.

Not a good question. He's pouting.

"I'm nineteen. How old do you think I am?" his eyes are staring at me challengingly.

"Never mind." I answer, trying to hide my surprise. Nineteen? Really? He's still seven years younger than me.

He's already smiling again, making me wonder if he ever does anything else.

"Haha, you know, now that I know your name, we're totally friends."

I'm blinking bewildered. Is he for real?

"You don't even know me, kid. It's not a wise thing to do going around in a mental hospital asking strangers to be your friends." I say after a while.

His smile isn't even changing one bit. On the contrary he starts laughing out loud, making a few heads turn to look at us.

"You are an idiot, Law. I don't need to know you to be your friend. But I need to be your friend in order to get to know you. Do you understand that?" he's asking, like he had just explained to a little child that two and two is four.

Does this makes sense or am I already listening for too long to him? I'm not sure. But I feel kind of stupid at the moment. It's been a while since I met someone as interesting as him.

He really is special.

I'm still thinking of what to say to that, when a new voice joins in the conversation.

"Oy Trafalgar. What are you doing there talking to lil' brats like him?"

Eustass is making his way over to my table and letting himself drop down on the chair next to Luffy, eying him suspiciously.

"What I am doing? What are you doing, Eustass?" I ask, not taking my eyes off him in case he tries something funny.

"Who's a brat you dumbass?" Luffy cries simultaneously.

"Ah you know what they say: Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. I still have to talk to you about the stunt you pulled yesterday." he says making himself comfortable.

Then he turns to Luffy.

"What do you think? I only see one brat here. And don't call me dumbass, you stupid little fucker."

For being such a threatening bad boy yesterday, he sure is good at bickering like a child now.

I'm shaking my head in disbelieve. Ain't I good at meeting new people?

"It's not my fault you are such a giant dumbass!"

"You... shut up or I'll kill you!"

"Ha you can try, Mr dumbass!"

Okay, seriously am I in nursery school now?

By now everyone in the cafeteria is looking at us. Judging from their expressions they're not sure if they should be afraid or laughing about this scene. I can't blame them.

"Would you stop this? You are acting quite childish." I tell them to stop their annoying bickering.

My food is cold now. Great.

Eustass glances around with a deadly expression on his face. Suddenly the whole room is really busy looking everywhere but not to our table. He's got quite a reputation.

"Shut up, Trafalgar." Eustass says lazily and starts eating like nothing has happened.

It's silent for a moment. Luffy is glancing wishful at my plate. His own is already empty.

When did he have time to eat it? Without a word I slide my tray over earning a thankful look.

I'm not hungry anyway.

"So I heard some crazy shit about you, Trafalgar. I wonder if it's true." the redhead says while chewing a piece of meat.

I froze. He can't possibly know about my past. Or why I am here. There is no way he has access to such information.

Luffy doesn't stop eating. I'm not sure if he is even listening.

"What exactly is it you have heard, Mr. Eustass?"

Leaning back in his seat, he smiles at me. Obviously enjoying the situation.

"People talk you know. But with all these crazy motherfuckers you never know if it's true or not. But they say you're quite the genius. Finishing medical school at age twenty-five and all. You worked as a surgeon in a local hospital, didn't you? That's when they say you went completely nuts. Getting 'DEATH' tattooed on your fingers and messing with your patients. They call you the 'surgeon of death'. Nice nickname by the way. They say you cut someone's brain open while he was conscious. Liked the way he screamed. You know I don't believe half of the shit they tell here, but you've got the vibes of an evil bastard around you so I'm curious: What out of this whole fucked up story is true?"

He is staring at my hands, cracking an evil smirk when he sees the tattoo there. He's studying me closely, waiting for a reaction.

Luffy looks up from his plate, his eyes are directed at my tattoo as well. He's completely silent.

I put my hands casually on the table. If they want to see the 'DEATH' writing, here it is.

I feel a smirk spreading on my face as I move closer to the redhead.

"Interesting things they tell. Say, what do they tell about you? Something nice I bet." I'm almost whispering now.

For a few seconds neither of us breaks eye contact. Then Eustass loses it and starts laughing like a maniac.

Luffy just sits there watching us. He doesn't look confused or frightened. Actually he's smiling at me like I just told him my hobby was to cuddle with cute little puppies.

He looks at me in the most innocent way.

"I like your tattoos. They suit you." he states causing Eustass to laugh even harder.

Told you, craziest people you can find and we are all sitting at one table.

"Crazy shitheads." is the last thing Eustass mutters under his breath before he leaves. He's still grinning. Maybe it's his way to tell us that we are alright. Who knows.

"Kid is strange. But I think I like him." Luffy says while patting his belly.

There is no food left. The boy sure has an appetite. If he always eats like this and is still that skinny he's making every woman on earth jealous.

"Anyway, there is group therapy today, so we are going to see him later again. Group therapy is much better than the private one. It's not as boring. My psychiatrist is an old hag, but she's really nice when you know her better. Hmm I wonder who's doing the group therapy today. They're taking turns you know. By the way, who's your psychiatrist?"

Questioning eyes are looking at me. The images of this cold woman come to my mind. I really don't want to talk about her.

Come to think of it I still don't know what the name of this creepy doctor is. Maybe I can ask Luffy. He seems to be in here for some time now. Surely he knows.

I don't get the chance to ask him as a guard pops up beside me.

"Trafalgar, it's time for your examination. Follow me."

The guard's rather bulky and looks like he just smelled something really nasty.

I comply silently, getting up from my seat and nodding Luffy goodbye.

"See you later Law. Have fun."

Oh yeah, I'm going to have a lot of fun. Catch the sarcasm here.

* * *

><p>The guard knocks at the door for me. I guess he forgot that I am supposed to be crazy not retarded.<p>

"Come in, come in" the voice of madness says.

As I enter the room the guard simply nods and closes the door behind him. One second longer and he would have saluted.

The room is plain white like every other room. It pretty much looks like you would expect a room of a doctor to be. There's a couch, a desk, a computer and a small closet full of drugs.

The only thing that makes you slightly nervous in this room is the unobtrusive little cabinet by the side filled with syringes. The syringes are not the problem, but the fluid that's in it is purple. What the hell is this? He's not using them, is he?

"Shurororo. Come on Law. We don't have all day. Make yourself comfortable. I just need to prepare a few things and then we are ready to go."

He's turning to the papers which lay on his desk. Glancing to his computer every now and then.

I try to get rid of this unpleasant feeling I have every time I look at him. But now that I am alone with him, it's getting worse.

After about ten minutes he stands up taking a seat across from me. His eyes are glinting with something I can't describe. But I don't like it.

"Shurororo. We should get started, shouldn't we? It's not often I have someone like you sitting in front of me. Take the jumpsuit off." he demands at the end making me even more uncomfortable.

I'm hesitating. On the one hand I want this to be over as soon as possible, on the other hand I don't trust him at all.

"Why don't you tell me your name first? As your patient I surely should know it?"

I'm playing for time now. Something's just holding me back.

He looks unsatisfied. After a short moment something evil crawls on his expression.

"My name? Shurororo. Most people don't know me by my real name. But there are many who know me under the name 'Caesar Clown'. Are you one of them, Law?"

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. Tell me if you liked it or not. :)<p> 


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